The Price of Pride
by Storm Midnight
Summary: Amidst all the fights, there had always been something there, but neither wanted to admit it. England secretly desired more, but was lost in his own misery. America felt the stirrings of something new, but was afraid to show it. USUK


**Wow, I wrote this AGES ago, and after much poking and prodding (and alternative coaxing, bribing, and threatening) from my friends I've finally decided to post this. I don't feel like this is one of my best stories, but I do hope that you enjoy it anyway.**

* * *

><p><strong>Ch. 1: When the Only Thing Between You and War is a White Flag, You Know You've Gone Too Far<strong>

It was supposed to be a normal day. England had offered to take America out for lunch in an attempt to help him with his ongoing recession, but after seeing the food the Yankee had selected, a fight broke out. Typical, yet tempers were reaching a breaking point.

"Give me back those bloody chips before you give yourself a heart attack!"

"No way dude! My heart isn't foolish enough to attack me! My iron willed patriotism is no match for cholesterol!" America continued to shove the pathetic, greasy excuses for French fries down his throat as England lunged for him.

"This is the last time I let you pick where we go or even take you out for lunch!" The older blonde shouted. "Honestly, McDonald's? ...It's more like obesity and death on a bun!"

America gasped as though insulted, then turned away while grabbing another handful of fries and ravenously eating them. "McDonald's is a prized American industry! They're all across my country and the world!"

England finally managed to snatch the super-sized carton of fries away from his former colony. His tone became scathing, "Oh, so is that why your people are so bloody fat and ugly?" Of course that had not been the best of insults, but it was the first one that came to mind.

More shouting and sarcastic comments followed, eventually leading to America— quite literally — throwing England out of his house and the Briton storming to his car, trying to maintain what dignity he had left.

The next world meeting certainly was going to be an interesting one...

xxxx

All of the countries were seated around a very large table; they spoke of mundane topics and irrational solutions. One particular topic was being belabored past the point of endurance.

"Ve! I still think-"

"NO ITALY!" The harsh, impatient voice of Germany rang throughout the meeting room, "The problem of Global Varming cannot be solved vith pasta!"

"Why must you be so mean about it Germany?" The brunette whimpered. "Pasta can make everything better!"

_"Oh hon hon!"_ France laughed, and then suggested sarcastically, "Give 'im a chance, Germany! Pasta may 'elp, no?"

"It sounds quite ridicurous if you ask me," Japan replied. "Pasta cannot help the ozone rayer."

"I personally think that this is natural occurrence." Russia said offhandedly. "We have been trying to fix global warming for quite some time, _da?_ And Russia still has plenty of snow, so what is problem?"

A silence enveloped the meeting, seeing Russia's point, but then again whenever Russia made a point no one except China or Belarus would have the balls to argue against it. Italy piped up, "I want to know what Mr. America thinks! He normally has something cool to say!"

America had been oddly quiet all day, but perked up at the statement. "Thanks dude! It's nice for someone to notice how awesome I am! Well To be honest I think—"

"Ah yes, it's always what the bloody American thinks that counts, right?" England, who was silent until that point as well, cut him off, "Nobody gives a damn of what the rest of us bloody think!" His voice became high and mocking, "Oh let's ask America, he always knows what to bloody do!" He voice returned to normal, "He can save us so we don't have to fight for our bloody selves!" The old Briton seemed surly and possibly hung-over as he ranted, sparking concern from the other countries.

Japan cautiously approached him and placed a hand on his shoulder, "Um... Engrand? Have you been drinking ratery?"

"Don't touch me!" He smacked the hand away, "And learn to bloody speak English correctly! What the hell is wrong with you? !"

America jumped up, slamming his hands on the table, "HEY! You have no right to talk to Japan that way, you drunken limey!"

"Oh go eat your McDonald's, fatty!"

"Why don't you go a choke on a crumpet, you tea sucking bastard? !"

"At least my tea and crumpets won't kill me!"

"At least my food actually tastes good!"

"Ve! Misters America and England should stop insulting each other's food and eat some pasta!" Italy shouted.

"SHUT UP ITALY!" Was the heated response from both.

"You two leave Italy out of this!" Germany shot back as he wrapped his arms around the small Italian.

"Then teach him how to keep his nose out of other country's business!" England growled.

"Do you vant another vorld var? !" The muscular blonde threatened.

"No Germany! We promised ourselves that there would be no more fighting!" Italy begged.

The older man paused for a moment, and then sighed, "You are right... I vill stay out for now..."

And so the fighting continued. America quickly ran out of insults and was forced to resort to, "Well, um... Your Mom!"

"What? You do know that I'm your Mother Country, right?"

"What's that supposed to mean? !"

"Technically that joke is invalid since then I would have to insult your mum, but then I'd be insulting myself."

There was a confused silence, then America said, "Wow Arthur, I always knew something was off with your gender!"

"It's a bloody figure of speech!" Reaching his breaking point (and trying to find a way to get that idiot to shut up) England reached into his military uniform for his gun. He suddenly remembered that he had taken it out when his uniform was washed yesterday. Frustration crashed over him like a great wave. "THAT TEARS IT!" He leapt onto the large table. America mimicked the action.

"Bring it on old man, BRING IT ON!"

The meeting was thrown into turmoil as the two superpowers duked it out on the tabletop. With a cry of "Pasta!" Italy frantically waved a white flag and hid under the table, dragging Germany with him. Nearly everyone else dived under the table as well to avoid the brawl, but typical Russia just sat there and smiled.

"Germany!" Japan crawled over to where the blonde was protectively curled around Italy. "I have a pran to stop those two before they destroy the entire room, but I'rr need your help."

"Ve! Please help Kiku, I'll be okay by myself!" The redhead paused, "Okay maybe I won't but you need to stop the fighting, Ludwig!" Italy only used real names when he wanted to be taken seriously.

The German sighed, "Very vell." He hugged Italy, "Stay right here Feliciano, _ja?"_

"Ah, don't you worry! Your little Italian with be safe with me, no?" France chimed as he joined the small group.

"Francis you keep your filthy French hands off him!"

"Ah, very well I see how it is..."

Japan whipped out his katana as Germany readied his gun. "On three we'rl jump up onto the tabrle and stop them, okay?" The blonde nodded in agreement. Quietly they positioned themselves at opposite sides of the table.

_"THREE!"_ They both shouted in their respective languages as they launched themselves at the two combatants. Germany put England into a headlock and positioned the barrel of his gun against the Briton's temple while Japan's blade rested on America's shoulder with the cutting edge brushing against his throat.

Germany was the first to speak, "You two vill stop this insolence at once!"

"And what makes you think we'll listen? !" England demanded.

Japan moved the katana so that more steel was against the younger blonde's neck. "We're not afraid to use force."

_"Ja,"_ Germany agreed. "I vill not hesitate to put a bullet in your head if you are difficult!"

America carefully eyed the sword at his throat, "I-I'll agree to a ceasefire if he will!"

"Well I'll only agree to a ceasefire if he does first!" England sneered.

"You know what? ! I'm so glad I'm independent of you! You turned out to be such a jackass!"

"PLEASE STOP!" Italy climbed onto the table and ran until he was between the two quarreling countries.

"I thought I told you to stay under the table!" Germany warned.

The Italian was beside himself with fear, clutching his white flag tightly he stated, "V-V-Ve... Italy offers a ceasefire with Misters England and America in which all who sign stop fighting with one another." He picked up a piece of paper and haphazardly made a treaty. "See? Italy signed first!" He produced two pens from his pocket. "And now Misters America and England will sign at the same time!"

Japan smiled, "Ingenious Itary!" His gaze then flicked to America, "You wirr sign it."

"As vill you!" Germany shouted as he hopped of the table, his gun still trained on England. One by one the counties sat back down. As soon as the paper was signed England stormed out the room, swearing all sorts of foul oaths against them. "He has been drinking," Germany confirmed. "I could smell rum on his breath."

Japan stood up and exited without another word. America cautiously approached Germany and Italy, "I... Um... Well, thanks." He then left as well.

"Ve..." Italy reached out after the American.

"Vhat is vrong?" Germany asked.

"I want to help them, but I don't know how..."

"You vant me to help you play matchmaker?"

"Or we could just plaster zem both and lock zem in a room together," France butted in. "Zey'll either kill each other or fuck each other senseless, problem solved, no?"

"No that does not solve the problem!" Italy cried out. "This is a matter of love!"

"It is love... Physical love!"

"That kind of love alone is only temporary." Germany replied solemnly before turning back to Italy, "How can I help?"

"Go find England and talk to him. See if you can make him tell you his true feelings for America, and I will go talk to America to find out his feelings for England, ve!"

France asked "And what about me, can I help?"

"Umm... No... I actually think you'd make the situation worse..." Italy muttered.

"Fine! But don't come crying to me when your plan fails!" France 'Humph-ed' and angrily walked out.

Germany quickly said, "Okay, this meeting is officially adjourned!" They both turned to leave. "Oh and Russia?"

The old country looked up from his chair, he had been quietly observing the entire situation.

"You didn't hear anything!"

He smiled and made a motion over his lips like he was closing a zipper. "You can probably find England at the pub, he had that look I always get when I want something strong."

_"Danke."_ And so they set off to rekindle the love between America and England: the love that everyone except them knew they had.

* * *

><p><strong>And so it begins.<strong>

**If you happened to find this enjoyable, I hope you review and alert this story! Support is welcome! Flames will be forwarded to Russia!**


End file.
